


Shadows Darkening

by OutcastTrip1995



Series: So, a Mando, a Dathomirian and an Umbaran Walk Into a Cantina [26]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: He needs all the hugs, Mando and Beskar are the best brothers, Poor Trauma, Snippets of different Outcasts while they wait for the airbase to be taken, Things are just going from bad to worse, Umbara is a hellhole!, Wrench is a tired grouchy bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutcastTrip1995/pseuds/OutcastTrip1995
Summary: Things are just going from bad to worse on Umbara ... much, much worse





	Shadows Darkening

**Author's Note:**

> Jysella Aru and the Hellions are the awesome OC's of naaklasolus! ^^
> 
> Mando'a translations for Mando are at the bottom ^^

Nikov knew something was off the instant he was ‘summoned’ to meet with Krell. The young man growled, fangs bared aggressively as he refused to move from the rock he’d situated himself on. This whole situation stank, but even more concerning was the gathering darkness around Krell. Nikov knew that the war was pushing the traditional Jedi to their limits, but they’d never been taught how to balance everything out. He had. Being a Mandalorian, following their philosophy, learning from the holocron and histories his mentor kept … all of them helped him to use his anger and passion without ending up a Sith. The best way to describe him would probably be grey at best, dark grey at worst. Huffing, he finally got to his feet and stalked towards Krell. Might as well see what the overgrown toad wanted. Scratch that, the overgrown toad and his witch brat. Silver eyes narrowing as he glared at Aru, Nikov sneered at her before folding his arms and glowering at Krell. 

“Wha’ d’ya wan’? Ah ‘ave be’a thin’s ta do righ’ now.” 

The snarl that twisted Krell’s lip was worth his sass, Nikov mentally adding another point to his score against the falling Jedi. 

*** 

“This isn’t gonna end well Mando.” 

Beskar looked over at his brother when the other clone snorted roughly and shook his head, blue hair falling into his icy eyes. The two veterans were sat near the edge of the camp, watching the divisions between the two units growing wider as Krell caused problems and encouraged those divisions. 

“ _Gar kar’taylir vod. Tionir cuyir … meg narir mhi narir_?” 

“I don’t know vod. I don’t know.” 

Beskar sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration before getting to his feet and heaving his flamethrower back up onto his shoulder. They weren’t tacticians, Mando specialised in linguistics and he specialised in setting things on fire. Not exactly what was needed right now. 

“Trust Warbrat and Sunny I guess … and that bastard Swipes. They’ll have a plan to get us through this.” 

*** 

Wrench was absolutely exhausted. It had taken hours to coax Sunny out of his trauma induced episode, and now he was behind on checking the injuries other Outcasts had suffered when fighting those damn tanks. Plus he hadn’t had a drink in ages and the lack of alcohol in his system was showing in his shaking hands. The medic ran a hand through his hair, idly noting that he needed to re-dye it before someone noticed the grey intermingling with the white and red; before setting the bacta in his hand aside so he could take a swig from his hip flask. The tihaar burned a path down his throat and he shuddered, grimacing before he got back to work. Getting to his feet after he finished smearing bacta over Boom-Time’s shoulders and smacking the insane explosive ordinance trooper with his namesake for good measure, he carefully approached the Hellion’s creepy ARC and the terrified, timid medic hiding in his shadows. 

“I need to check Trauma’s leg, make sure the injury he got in the ambush is healing.” 

He edged carefully around Reaper, mindful that the ARC was watching his every mood. He didn’t particularly appreciate being hovered over like that, but for the sake of the kid in front of him, he wouldn’t start anything. Setting his pack down, Wrench carefully unwound the bandage from around Trauma’s leg, clicking his tongue in disapproval. The wound wasn’t healing like it should; with their accelerated healing it should have at least closed up by now. Instead the wound was still open, sluggishly oozing blood as the bandage was removed. Wrench shook his head and re-wrapped the injury in fresh bacta soaked bandages before looking up at the timid and far too skinny little medic. 

“I’ll talk to Krell, you need to stay off this leg if you want it to heal.” 

He didn’t like the looks of alarm on the ARC and the medic’s faces, a frown twisting his own. 

“ _Look_ , that wound isn’t going to close up with you running yourself ragged and looking after that bastard. You need to rest.” 

Shouldering his pack before any attempts at arguing could be made, Wrench made his way back towards the Outcasts side of the camp. He was almost wishing Swipes and his team would hurry up and return, if only so he didn’t feel like he had a bigger than usual target on his back.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a translations:
> 
> “ _Gar kar’taylir vod. Tionir cuyir … meg narir mhi narir_?” - "I know brother. But what do we do?"
> 
> Hope y'all liked! ^^


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